


Mythal's Judgment

by theharellan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arlathan (Dragon Age), Elvhen Pantheon, Elvhenan, Falling out, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theharellan/pseuds/theharellan
Summary: He sees what lies on the end of this road, he knows if they do not change their path, it will bring them to ruin. He walks the trials, as any of the People would, to plead for her aid, never suspecting the answer would be anything but "yes."
Relationships: Fen'Harel & Mythal, Mythal - Relationship, Solas & Flemeth | Mythal (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 5





	Mythal's Judgment

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the prompt: a memory that strains a relationship. One important canon divergence to note is that Solas had many names before Fen'Harel, but loses them as his faith in the evanuris is shaken.

“I am afraid not, _lethellen_.”  


Five small words, and his faith is shaken.

When he first opens his mouth, no sound follows. Only the Fade speaks for him, reflecting the sense of betrayal he dares not let himself speak. It reveals his heart, the certainty with which he had believed she would agree manifesting in the trembling earth. Temple grounds move beneath him, expectations suddenly thrown into disarray. All her court look beneath them, save Mythal herself.

He remains rooted to the earth, knelt before her, afraid that if he were to pull himself to his feet his knees might tremble beneath his weight. His mind still swims with the memory of her trials, a golden path to her side. He would not ordinarily take it, having earned his place beside her long ago, but the effort felt worth the statement it would make. He cleansed his mind of its answers and walked it as any among her people would. A fruitless endeavour, in the end.

“We cannot go on as we have been,” he pleads, finding his voice. With heavy legs he pulls himself to his feet, standing to his full height. “Justice cannot be truly realised the way our world is now. If not for their sake, then your own. What if you lose sight of yourself?” It had happened before, he need not name when. Not to her. They both remember Andruil, slayer of beasts reduced to half a beast herself. “Your spirit may–”

“It is for their sake I refuse you!” Around them the air begins to sicken, the putrid scent of sulfur that heralds dragon’s fire coats his throat. Despite himself, despite the years he has fought for her, bled, fear steals into his heart. “I would sooner lose myself than risk them in open war.”  


“We risk them either way.” Black plagues scar Andruil’s woods, and to the east Falon’Din has gone silent. “Or would you prefer to sacrifice them two by two?”  


“ _Enough_ ,” she seethes. He sees the veins in her hands bulge, knuckles white against the bone. “My judgment is final.”  


His legs straighten, every muscle straining against the earth to keep himself aloft, breathing in and ignoring how his lungs burn with her magic. “Then what of my fate?” He has seen her reduce petitioners to black marks upon the floor for less than he had said, today. Their memory lingers, if he listens close, for even in death they still call to their All-Mother.  


Mythal does not answer him, and he grows still. The fear in his heart is silent, though he cannot call its absence bravery. _It will be quick,_ he thinks, and she will be beside him. In the space of a breath a day seems to pass, shadows shift positions until his points towards the temple door.

“Your methods may be flawed,” she says at last, “yet your motive is pure. You’ve the People’s interests at heart. I cannot fault you for that.” Her fingers fold before her, fingers aligning at her chest. The yellow atmosphere is siphoned slowly away, until the air breathes clear again. “You may leave in peace, Fen– _oh_.” She stops short of his old name, the sound of it deaf to dreams. “I see.” Her eyes are sad as she regards him, mourning what was, unable or unwilling to hide her disappointment. Standing before her, knowing it was but a single woman’s judgment had stood between him and the final journey, he is not sure there was ever anything to mourn.

“Go, then,” Mythal bids him. “And may I know the delight of speaking your true name when next we meet.”  


He nods, but does not echo her sentiment in voice or dream. Whatever his next name will be, he is certain it will not belong to her.


End file.
